Duplicitous
by L'Archange
Summary: What's a certain God of Mischief to do when he causes the disappearance of Alfheim's princess? Why, locate a look-alike, of course! Even if she's not completely willing... (Lokane, AU, Pre-Thor)
1. A Plan

Duplicitous

Chapter 1

Outlined by the dull golden glow of a distant Alfheim moon, in the midst of the princess' royal chambers, Loki stood with but a sliver of space between himself and Aedel. His gaze, openly showing his full intent, locked in hungry attraction with her curious, soft violet one. As if their thoughts were aligned, they both shifted their attention to the plain bronze band on the princess' arm.

From a small gesture Loki made with his wrist, swirls of shimmering green danced around her upper arm where the simple band rested. His hand slid up her soft skin and long deft fingers accompanying the thrall of the magic he was casting upon it.

He knew his hand trembled terribly, but he was much too preoccupied with budding hope to care. They watched in anticipation, as he slid the simple trinket down, over her elbow and then wrist. When he removed it completely, the princess released a shuddering, elated breath, and then vanished.

Loki didn't know how long he stood in that very spot after she had disappeared right before his eyes. Or how much time had passed before he noticed the room's deafening silence. His heart thudded so loudly in contrast.

He wiped the nervous sweat from each palm in turn onto his tunic as he passed the bracelet from one hand to the other. When he swallowed the heavy knot that formed in his throat it took up residence in the pit of his stomach. He should tell someone about this. And explain…what, exactly? That the princess had invited him back to her rooms?

And why not? It was true. A dreadful thought emerged then: what if they blamed him for what had happened? If anything had happened to her, that is? Then again, the only evidence that she had ever been with him was the bracelet still in his hold. After all, they had succeeded in keeping their time together secretive.

Could she be some sort of danger? A recent memory of her laughing happily at something he had said made his heart drop. Worry spurred his feet to move on their own to pace the wide expanse of the pointlessly lavish rooms. The present offered him no comfort. He fingered the edge of the now-useless piece of metal in his hand. Other memories trickled back – specifically from when he had first met Aedel. He stopped. The king had said something about the armband. Something…about her safety and protection.

He realized that he had never seen her without the bracelet. What if…what if she _was_ in trouble? What if the Princess of Alfheim had been abducted?

Seeing the metallic thing in a new light, he turned the simple metal band around to inspect it. It was the bronze material that made it look unremarkable, but his magical senses honed in on it. Now without its host, it hummed as though perhaps it missed the contact.

Loki dearly missed the calm from the afternoon's negotiations, which were now achingly distant. The composed demeanor he had so easily shown in front of Thor and the King's Counsel, was gone and the immaculate, nonchalant second son of Odin was no more.

Now he was uncomfortable in his own skin, and his scalp prickled from nervous energy. He was no longer at ease, and felt constrained by his garments. In an effort to ease the tension that was now building behind in his forehead, he furiously wiped his face with a hand, and ran his fingers through his hair.

For the hundredth time, Loki went over the events in his head again. How could he have not foreseen the outcome to what he had done? How could he have allowed this to happen without considering the consequences? Had his feelings for the princess shrouded his brain?

He flexed his hands, again, and again, but the movement did no good to placate the growing anxiety that now roiled in the pit of his stomach. The luxurious surroundings mocked him. They served to remind him of what he had done and the potential danger she might be in. Without the Princess, they were imprisoning and suffocating.

Panic by itself, he could handle, but guilt was intertwined with it, and the latter pinched at his nerves. Loki thought of this pathetic emotion with disdain; he needed to do something of use.

How in Hel was he going to explain this to Odin? Because if Thor found out, he couldn't be sure his oaf of a brother could keep a secret. In the past millennia, Thor was always the one getting into messes, and Loki would always cleverly think up a way for both of them to circumvent the consequences. A scenario involving this role-reversal had never been tested. No, he was determined. Odin would never know and Thor would never find out.

Loki felt a wave of encouragement: he needed to rally his wits and think of a way out of this. He needed to located her and quickly, before the news of her disappearance became known.

It was already late evening and he barely had until the next morning to figure something out. Thor had charmingly dared the King and his Counsel to prove that their finest ale was better than Asgardian mead. This might gain him the rest of this night and then some as they recovered from their night of revelry. He was certain that no one in all the Nine could hold their own as well as Thor, who could drink barrels without appearing to be the slightest bit affected.

Loki stopped dead and peered around Princess Aedel's rooms to assess what he if to search the realms for her. The cursed bracelet could function as a locator. The only other thing he required was a faithful rendering: He took a small etching of her likeness from her bedside stand and sent both of these items into his personal, private little fold in space and time. He would locate her before any of this could come to light. 

A wave of exhilaration washed over him. His heart raced at imagining a most glorious rescue. Then he and the princess could continue where they had left off.

And all would be forgiven.

A cool desert breeze teased Loki's mussed hair as he surveyed the deplorable, barren scenery with half interest. It was where his magic had led him, and he half-heartedly cloaked himself, somewhere between two structures he could only guess were dwellings.

The larger one on his left had tall glass doors, which were completely open giving him ample view of a room over-crowded with tables. All surface-area within was completely covered by some sort of paper, book or piece of primitive technology. Aside from the crude Midgardian devices, it vaguely reminded him of a particular reading nook in his own room.

But even with his capabilities, there were certain things that even his magic could not penetrate. The only obvious thing was a young woman with brown curls, standing just outside of the metallic structure to his right, repeatedly looking at something on her wrist.

Of all the places in the Nine Realms, why on Odin's beard did his magic bring him here, to Midgard?

A few more minutes passed, wherein nothing else occurred except for the Midgardian woman repeating this mysterious action. Loki groaned to himself, as he tried to ignore the small pang of concern. Could something have meddled with his magical abilities?

The God of Mischief was ready to depart to some other recess that called to him from the Great Tree, when he heard her. The voice followed the slam of a door on the other side of the nearby metallic structure.

Even in the distance, it sent a chill up his spine. That _voice_. The source was a petite, approaching shape that rounded the structure, eclipsing the intense amber glow of a setting sun upon the horizon – both voice and shape, familiar but initially limited to an indiscernible silhouette. Loki froze, and a wave of warmth swept over him. When he saw her, relief, joy and the need to confront her for this charade, fought for dominance in him.

He heard himself exhale in relief. When had he stopped breathing?

Well, he'd done it! He'd succeeded. He'd found Princess Aedel, who was now performing the odd Midgardian gesture of shaking hands with the woman who had been standing there alone before.

As the two women approached together, Loki could now see that the princess had made great effort to disguise herself. For what purpose, he didn't know. At least, he thought with relief, she looked unharmed.

She had donned some ragged garments to blend in with the Midgardian populace. He observed that even though they added a cunningly concealing touch, they offended his senses and did not suit her. As for the hair – she must have used her now-untethered magic to shift it into another shade, right along with those somewhat familiar eyes; although if Loki had to admit, the new colour of deep auburn brown of their depths, was most captivating and intriguingly addicted to observe.

An obscene noise pulled Loki from his reverie of triumphant satisfaction. Princess Aedel's hand was on her mouth – _she_ had produced an undignified burp, one that had rivaled Volstagg's homages after eating half a feast.

And rather than being ashamed about this, Princess Aedel most casually admitted to making the noise, before continuing the dialogue, to introduce herself to the other woman…

…as Jane Foster.

Loki's jaw dropped.

 _No. No, no, no, no. This couldn_ _'t be._

This was an actual Midgardian before him, who was absolutely, resolutely not the one he was looking for.

It would seem that he had allowed himself victory too early.

By some strange twist of fate, this Midgardian, Jane Foster (a mortal!) Eerily resembled the princess of Alfheim.

He half listened to their dialogue, as panic encroached again. His relief was short-lived.

"Darcy Lewis, right? Let me make this clear. I need a competent assistant."

The Darcy woman took a look at their surroundings, and gave a peek into the enclosure 

"And a filing system." Darcy added.

Jane Foster lifted a delicate brow at the other woman's brazen attitude, but quirked her lips nonetheless, "Yeah. How are your research skills?"

"I'm Google proficient and I like the Internet."

Loki didn't know what those things were, but he was more interested in figuring out his next course of action.

Jane move past the Darcy to a nearby table, to lift a random pile of messy papers and pull out a small, black book. Attached to it was a cylindrical instrument Loki deduced was for writing. She opened the book to a new page, removing a folded-up paper within and raised her eyes to her company.

By the time Jane looked back up, Darcy had already followed her into the enclosure and had allowed herself a glimpse of random notes she had found lying around. In one stride, Jane was there and snatched the paper out of her hand and most audibly cleared her throat.

That action was completely Princess Aedel…even if Jane Foster wasn't. Loki felt his brow lift at this observation.

"Learning curve?" Jane blurted.

The would-be intern didn't miss a beat. "Steep."

Jane Foster visibly considered this; her eyes narrowed pensively.

"It says here you study Political Science…why apply to be _my_ intern?"

Darcy Lewis pursed her lips, and shrugged. "Administration messed up. And I went with it, because I really need the credits. Would've missed the deadline if I had applied again. Anyway, Political Science or other Science, they're both called Science, for some reason, right? Bottom line: I'm a smart cookie and I've got skills you need."

Jane sighed and gave a soft smile. On those familiar features, Loki recognized the look as one of resignation.

Perhaps Odin was behind all of this, because he knew what had conspired in that dark room. And Loki was being punished. And yes, this was the All-Father presenting events to prove a point, to teach unthinking, arrogant Loki so valuable a lesson for so carelessly using his magic, without considering any of the consequences. He cringed inwardly at what his mother would say about this.

He was loath to admit it, but this _was_ his fault. Which was probably why he was having trouble finding a solution to this predicament. Perhaps his direct involvement with the events was dulling his resourceful wits. This was a dreadfully unfamiliar path. The way he fretted and crossed his arms to that to that conclusion reminded him of a younger version of himself.

As the Midgardian day came to a close, and Darcy had taken her leave, Loki was still at a loss for how to proceed. No amount of magic could make Jane Foster the Princess of Alfheim.

From a short distance, he mused about his plans as he observed Jane Foster's profile gently lit by the moonlight. He materialized near her to peer at her over her shoulder – she had fallen asleep at whatever task, her head resting on her arm. Yes, he confirmed it for the umpteenth time: The resemblance was astounding. The idea struck him – no, magic was not what he needed. This would require his silver tongue.

Naturally, some adjustments would be required, on her part anyway. Because there was no other option at this point.

But yes, she would do nicely. How difficult would it be to pass this creature off as a noble? Just until he found Aedel? Excitement slowly replaced the re-emerging anxiety and guilt from earlier.

Again, Loki eyed the Midgardian woman as he reflected on the changes she would need to go through.

As if on cue, she chose to stir and give another small belch, as if he needed further reminder of what she was.

The God of Mischief's face twisted in distaste. This wouldn't be easy and he should probably get started sooner rather than later. There was a lot of work ahead of him, and so little time to spare.

Yes, she was smart enough to learn. The question was rather, would she have the sufficient ability to fool Alfheim's court? In a moment of that now familiar panic, Loki idly wondered how difficult it would be to just vanish somewhere between the smaller, more obscure branches of Yggrasil…

No, this was an opportunity, and he was not a coward. If he ran, it would only prove the Warriors Three correct. No, it was no accident that he had stumbled upon this likeness…

Loki Odinson observed as Jane Foster dragged herself to a bed, all while lost in his thoughts. He convinced himself that he was thankful she didn't bother undressing before settling beneath her bed covers. She was asleep in very little time and Loki was left fully to his ideas again.

He was struck abruptly by her gentle, peaceful state. What he saw in Jane Foster overshadowed all doubts. Oh, he would make this work. On his name as an Odinson, even though the creature snored like a particularly wild beast they hunted back home, he would make this work.

He dreaded to think what was happening back on Alfheim at this moment.

7 of 7


	2. Uninvited Visitor

**Chapter 2**

The sun was peeking out upon the horizon all too soon again, and Jane's head was pounding something fierce. She could feel the effects of the caffeine from her fifteenth cup of coffee wearing off. Her system was running off just remnants of it and her energy level was waning.

Thirty-six hours straight invited exhaustion, but adding infuriating frustration was moving her ever closer to the verge of pulling out her hair. Idly, she wondered if this was why most of her male "peers" were bald. She heaved some air out in annoyance and decided that to avoid joining them, she would stick to massaging her scalp instead to relieve the pressure.

It wasn't working.

She jumped from the chair to lean over her keyboard, glaring more closely at each of two separate monitors in turn, as if by intimidation, she could will the data they showed to miraculously correlate. Another muttered curse passed her lips.

Was she missing something?

For the nth time, she feverishly checked the connections again – the cables were still securely attached and the flashing amber lights on the respective devices still indicated that they were functioning perfectly.

What the Hell was going on?

Again she settled on the monitors in turn: left, right, left, right. She huffed in irritation. They were exactly like the readings for the timed atmospheric disturbances on the left, but the air pressure and thermal readings that were supposed to correspond on the right, were showing up erratic and unreliable. How was she supposed continue to isolate these events if the signs were too sporadic to isolate?

Jane groaned from threatening defeat, her head now feeling heavier and a line of muscle along one side of her neck cramping more than usual – probably from one too many nights spent sleeping at her keyboard in an awkwardly scrunched, sitting position.

Though yet again she gave into the urge to rest her head down in that exact manner, expertly ignoring the layer of sticky sweat and even a few grains of desert sand caked on her forehead from that day. She didn't want to think about how much she needed another shower. Doing so would slow her momentum.

What if they were actually incomplete as opposed to misaligned? And what if getting close enough was the key? What if her other events had been close enough by fluke and she hadn't even known? What if all it took was to find and follow these newer disturbances at a closer range?

Jane had measured the time for the previous anomalies, calculated the series' pattern of calm between each, individual event…yes, she needed to get closer to see all of the data to better map these newer abnormalities: to better measure everything from air pressure and density changes, and even light emissions; at least as much of the spectrum that was humanly measureable. Somehow the readings _had_ to correlate. She would figure out how the bits all correlated, she could feel it.

And what she needed for _that_ , was to become mobile…

She forced her eyes to open when she realized that the most recent blink was turning into a nap. Perhaps now the lack of sleep and lack of caffeine in her system was catching up to her. When her brain instructed her body to move, the signal was blatantly ignored.

Was lacking energy the same as lacking determination? That was the topic of her internal debate as she forced herself to straighten with a plan to drag herself out of her creaky, rolling chair. Darcy had already found her passed out and drooling all over an arm that _one_ time, and such a scenario would never be repeated.

Maybe she should get another coffee? Ugh, that required performing the task of making a new batch.

Hm, where was that ever-helpful intern…?

* * *

Jane's muscles protested at her standing in the same spot for the past hour in her van. Her sunroof was gaping open, and she stood amidst the gap in a tank top that was dampened by sweat. She refused to acknowledge the burning ache, the suffocating heat and lack of shade as she was affixing a connection component atop of her vehicle. The modulator wheel was already set.

There was no air-conditioning within the confines of the semi-breezy lab, and even with all windows open, Jane still felt like she was roasting. It was a nuisance but it was better than being directly exposed to the sun's harsh rays.

Fleetingly she thought of running the engine just to use the A/C in the van, but that would just create more heat within the lab itself. Besides, Darcy would hijack the radio and cue: another form of torture next to the heat.

"What's this one do?" Darcy lifted another gadget for Jane to see from Jane's red, paint-chipped and rusty toolbox on the floor, the stack of folders and scrap notes to organize now pushed aside for the time being. This device was a smaller modified GPS model with a crudely attached, half-exposed circuit board that had a digital alarm clock display soldered onto it.

Jane was restless from excitement, but tense from a feeling of a looming, _taunting_ deadline. Every time she found focus, another, Darcy would break the deep, meditative flow of thoughts.

She would have shown irritation to the intermittent distraction, if not for the alternate, fervent goal-oriented enthusiasm that offset her annoyance and kept her from snapping at the poor intern. In all fairness, Jane had yet to give Darcy anything substantial to do besides basic filing and making a few runs for mechanical bits and pieces as needed. Jane _couldn't_ blame Darcy for her obvious boredom.

Jane assessed Darcy in passing, and recognized a glimmer of fascination in her gaze as she handled the makeshift tool, clearly analyzing it. There was no denying the girl had brains, even if wasted on the study of something as irrelevant as a Social Science.

"It's a combination of a barometer and photo-detector, but it's not quite finished; I'm working to add a hygrometer component to gauge whether the moisture levels in the air are affected during these events. It's a shot in the dark, but I need everything and anything I can find."

It became too silent, too suddenly. When Jane gave Darcy a curious, cursory glance, the intern looked dumfounded. Jane refrained from showing her amusement before graciously deciding to elaborate.

Unfortunately, even if intelligent, Jane had to teach Darcy some basics, first. She remembered the mention of the girl's steep learning curve. Hopefully that was true.

"It measures atmospheric pressure changes, catches anomalies, shifts…the delta for all of these things via time lapse and also pinpoints the event within an eight-mile radius. I've been charting the pattern of a handful of atmospheric events."

"Did you make all of these tools yourself?" Darcy's astonished tone was followed by the noise of her digging deeper through other items in the toolbox.

At this point, Jane was engrossed in the remote control, trying to calibrate it with the receiver. For some reason, the thing repeatedly failed to send or accept signals. She shrugged at Darcy's awestruck comment, "It's simple electronics, really. Hey, could you pass me that over there?" Her eyes indicated the commonplace tool next to her intern, on the table.

Darcy took little to no time replying, "Oh, you mean your barophohygrometer?" She offered brightly while over-enunciating the made-up compound word with a goofy grin and gesturing at the Franken-device by waving it in the air.

Maybe the direction she had pointed hadn't been clear.

"The long-neck flat-head screw driver," Jane amended monotonously with a quirk of her lips.

Darcy complied before watching Jane work for another moment in silence.

"Hey Ms. Astrophysicist, this is pretty amazing. I'm impressed." Now Darcy moved next to Jane to peer over her shoulder. On any other occasion the hovering and close proximity of another person so near behind (especially in such a tight space) while she worked would make her edgy and irritable. But not today. Today she would find the key to fixing the data mismatch.

"You say that now, but wait till I ask you to make a trip to the scrap yard for some spare parts," Jane replied, very much distracted by the recognition of damage to the device in her hands and why it wasn't functioning properly.

The thing needed new screws (now that she had needed to pry it open) and a completely new back panel that had partially melted onto its circuit board. Great, she needed a new circuit board, too. Why did this keep happening?

"Oh, and I need some more supplies from the hardware store."

"Now?" The girl puffed and stepped away from Jane in disbelief. Or was it exasperation? Maybe both.

Jane nonchalantly ignored Darcy's display of theatrics. "There's a list I put together – it's in your inbox."

"By inbox, do you mean stuck on the bar fridge with a magnet?" The girl asked, deadpan.

Jane was still mostly focused on the gadget in her hand so the reply was detached, but without a hint of hesitation. "Yup."

Darcy sighed in resignation and (audibly grumbling something about credits as she reluctantly walked away), disappeared deeper into the lab area, probably towards the kitchen area to check her 'inbox'. Jane smiled humorously to herself.

In little time, the lively intern reappeared, waving the scrap piece of paper to gesticulate. "You know this is the first place of employment I've ever heard of where the _inbox_ keeps the beer cold."

Jane threw her a dry look before returning full attention to her gadget. "We don't have any beer," she said with a corresponding tone, matter-of-factly pointing out the fault in Darcy's statement.

"Well it's a good thing I'm going out then, isn't it?" Jane could hear from Darcy's wry tone that meant she was either smirking or smiling brightly. She was getting in the daily habit of huffing in mock-exasperation at her new assistant's quirky antics.

Jane trailed Darcy who made her way towards the kitchen before leaving the lab. She gave into the desperate urge to yell after her assistant, "An old radio will work. Oh, and make sure the stuff from the scrap yard isn't overly corroded! And yes, I did mean a telescopic antenna!"

Sustenance. She needed _something_. Maybe a pop-tart? No…later. For now, she was either going to grab another cup of coffee, or perhaps a deliciously hydrating bottle of water from within Darcy's 'inbox'.

* * *

Once in the kitchen area, the coffee called to Jane in its decanter, but she opted for what had beckoned her there in the first place. She should probably begin to decaffeinate her system, as a dehydrated and sleep-deprived Jane would be a useless Jane.

So until she had the necessary parts to repair the dish remote, Jane decided she would fully enjoy a freshly chilled bottle of water.

She twisted the cap off eagerly and smiled in relief when the cold, clean liquid cooled her tongue. Coffee was a blessing and a treat but there was a reason that water was now referred to as liquid gold, after all.

Closing her eyes, she held the cold water-filled plastic reverently against each temple, and sighed from delight between refreshing, occasional sips that sent thirst-quenching mouthfuls of water down her throat. The stuff was too cold to guzzle but her neck and wrists were grateful for the blissfully cool reprieve from the blistering heat of midday.

"And you thought I would never track you down, Princess."

Jane nearly dropped the bottle mid-sip, when a silky, low, and menacing tone of voice spoke from a short distance behind, startling her. She gasped, partially inhaling some of the water and choked, coughed and sputtered.

A mere second ago she was _sure_ she had been alone in her lab. Dread weighed heavily upon her and so she turned, slowly: The _sure_ presence of an unknown man in her lab (and in the strangest of clothes), proved her wrong.

Had he been there the whole time? No…she would have noticed…He _stuck out_ from his surroundings like a long, dark shadow against a backdrop of a light and cheery room. Yet he still carried an air of belonging, as though all he saw was his domain.

He was casually perched on a chair in the dining area, with his crossed legs propped up, the heels of his boots on the edge of the small, vinyl table. His long arms were crossed loosely against a chest that was covered by what looked like a part of strange armour.

If wasn't a feat at all for someone to tower over Jane, but even in his position she could tell that he was _very_ tall. Perhaps an _entire foot_ taller than she was… No, the guy wouldn't _tower_ , he'd _skyscraper_ over her.

She blinked in dismay at herself. Oh God, Darcy had barely been with her for a week and the girl with the corny sense of humour was already in her head.

Jane also noticed that he was dressed rather peculiarly, but if his clothes resembled anything familiar, Jane considered, they seemed almost medieval in style. Then again, Jane reassessed with a tilt of her head, the outfit looked very much like a Star Trek costume for some space prince…

The uninvited visitor wore a barely visible dark green tunic well concealed beneath a heavy, black leather overcoat. With the way he sat, its lengthy hem swept the floor.

The ensemble was mostly black, save for a shiny, golden curve across his chest and green where his tunic remained uncovered, ruffled on his arms above the black forearm braces. On one side, a layer of silver-metallic material made of inter-linked pieces hung out as if haphazardly, but in its entirety the outfit was expertly tailored to his slim frame.

Jane thought he should have been baking in those heavy materials, but the guy was clearly unaffected by the hot climate. Not even a single bead of sweat or a hint of sheen from moisture could be seen on his exposed skin.

He was lean, but not without apparent physical strength. Short, raven-black hair was combed back drawing focus to pale, sharp and angular, but extremely handsome features. The most noticeable were his eyes – which were green like a deep forest of pine trees – intent eyes that were now carefully grazing her face.


	3. Role-Playing Games

Role-Playing Games

Chapter 3

Jane must have misheard, because why else would he have addressed her as _Princess_? "Excuse me?"

His response was nothing more than a smug and haughty perusal of her person, skin-crawlingly intrusive in a way that made her feel equal parts violated and creeped out. There was also a curious gleam in the mossy depths of that gaze as he eyed her from head to toe. Her analytical side told her he must have been in search of an answer to a mystifying question he had asked himself.

After another moment, she thought that he must have finally reached some sort of epiphany when he shifted but his eyes merely roamed the room as he allowed the heavy silence to continue.

Unable to withstand the silence any longer, she was determined to take the opportunity to tell the bothersome stranger (in a most indignant tone) that he was trespassing on private property and wasting her time.

Except she lost the chance when she became distracted into silence as she speechlessly watched him move in a single, awe-inspiringly fluid motion. He swung his long, leather-clad legs off of her table and gracefully hopped to his feet as though he had some super power to control gravity.

It suddenly occurred to her how convenient it was that Darcy had just left. That this might be some bizarre prank designed by her quirky intern who Jane recalled was heavily into the role playing scene or knew someone…what had Darcy been prattling on about yesterday? Something about "perfectly normal people with PHDs role-playing on weekends"? Was that supposed to be some sort of hint of things planned? Jane remembered Darcy's frown at some derisive response Jane had made to her intern's statement. Something about _over her dead body_.

The subtle sound of leather creaking brought her back to the present – the stranger approached her with deliberate, calculated steps, gazing at her in an intense, seemingly devious way as the distance between them diminished. She wasn't sure what to make of him; the heavy look in his eyes both chilled her to the bone and seared her skin.

The very tall and unusually dressed man stopped at barely more than an arm's length from her and peered down to lock gazes with her. With him so close, she felt even more vertically challenged than usual, his towering height encouraging her to crane her neck just to meet his eyes. But instead she shifted her head to the side and eyed him as to make her seem a lot less vulnerable than she felt.

He smiled at her softly with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "It matters not whether you come willingly, Princess, I have come to take you back."

Oh, so that's the kind of game this was.

Well, Jane Foster was not playing.

"Look, I _respect_ how elaborate this whole thing is." She gave his outfit a purposeful and conspicuous once-over at this, the manner not respectful in the least. "Whatever it is. But I'm not interested in this game. And if you talk to Darcy before I do, you can tell her that if she tries anything like this again, I won't authorize her credits."

When had her frame begun to tremble? And why did her voice have to follow suit? So much for wanting sound firm and in control.

The guy just canted his head and lifted a brow.

She was loath to acknowledge that there was something comical about trying to sound stern and collected in the face of this stranger's proximity and irksome _tallness_ and how dwarfed she was, standing next to him. Not to mention the oddness of that outlandish roleplaying outfit up close.

Her vision focused on how it was held together…shouldn't his clothes look less elaborate at closer inspection instead of more so? And why would he wear something that accentuated an already broad set of shoulders…?

Her focus shifted back to handsome stranger's face when he sighed audibly.

Somehow, the guy became more handsome now just from the single act of suavely crossing his arms, a gesture that well suited the playful smirk still gracing his lips.

She briefly wondered what his real name was but thought better not to ask at the risk of encouraging him. And made-up name or not, it would do no good to know.

Finally he chose to speak. "I am not playing any game, Princess."

Jane grinned humourlessly.

"See, it would _have_ to be a game of pretend, because you and I _both_ know I'm not actually a princess." Jane followed those words with an obvious, fake laugh and then returned to her forced grin while taking a calming, cleansing breath to ground herself.

Her patience was waning quickly and her temper growing shorter – this situation was so very much beyond simply absurd and there were so many better ways to use her time! For God's sake, it was time she didn't even have! She was itching to play around with her data some more to best calibrate the dish before Darcy returned, and the day wasn't getting any younger. Even without this intrusion, it was a race against the first signs of nightfall.

As she clenched her jaw, she imagined the great pleasure it would be to confront Darcy with this guy witness to it all.

Another stretch of silence fell between them. It was as though he hadn't acknowledged a single word she'd just said. Was she breaking some role-playing rule? Perhaps he was unable to improvise? Or unwilling? If that was the case, should she simply try to play along to get beyond this stalemate? This whole situation was so strange, her curiosity prodded at her to experiment. Maybe she should play along to mess with him?

Wait, what was she thinking? Playing along? Was she insane for even considering it?

Whether she was insane was always up for debate, sleep deprived as she was most of the time. But this situation was definitely insane. It was ridiculous. And this guy had to leave.

Cool and calm, she found herself on autopilot and closed the little remaining distance between them. She decisively locked eyes with him and then poked him in his armoured chest with her index finger to punctuate every word, "You know what? I _refuse_ to play along with this charade. If you think I'm going anywhere with you, then…" She struggled for words, so caught up in her tirade. She bobbed her head a few times, as if willing the words to come, "then…you must think I'm just as delusional as you are."

The stranger's brow was still lifted, his subtle expression firmly fixed until he did something unexpected. He smiled broadly. It was the sort of smile that was an unsettling foreshadow to something menacing to come.

Jane couldn't help but swallow thickly, losing her nerve and retreated as far as the counter behind her allowed.

Where did Darcy find this guy? On one hand, she was more than a little impressed by his knack (or skill?) at playing this role; on the other hand, its intricacy bordered on deranged – his flawless portrayal was disturbing.

Seriously, what had Darcy expected? That Jane would just go along with the game of pretend willingly? And then to what end?

As if on cue, the heat in his gaze intensified.

Or...was _this_ turn of events the expected? Something about that wide smile of his told Jane he knew that she would react this way.

"Magic never makes a mistake. It does what it's told, Princess."

 _You just won't back down with this princess crap, will you?_

If Jane were in a good mood, she would have applauded his keeping in character. Yes, actually, physically applauded him. She might have considered it a good show, that is, if she weren't Jane Foster. But under the inevitable circumstances she was only capable of deadpan. _Talk about in-character mumbo-jumbo._

"It does, does it?" Jane wondered if he would purposely miss the sarcasm.

Through a movement that Jane supposed was sleight of hand, he made an object appear from behind his back and lifted it between them. It was a bronze-toned band that looked like a bracelet meant for a dainty upper arm.

"It was this bracelet that led me here to you. And as such, it is not _I_ that you need to convince." Jane couldn't decide whether that smile of his was purposely made to look contrived or failed to be genuine. Maybe it was her impatience (and not the craziness of his scheme) that clouded her understanding of what he attempted to convey.

"What?"

"If I instruct my magic to lead me to the princess by use of this bracelet…" He slightly waved the metal thing between them. "Then that is exactly what it has done."

Right. So _that_ was the name of the game. His character was hired to find her character. And her character was some princess. Not a very original story…

Good grief, this predicament was fraying her nerves and draining on her remaining energy reserves. Giving the half-empty, soft plastic bottle of water in her hand a glimpse, the remaining water in it was slowly losing its appeal. She totally should have just tried to nap first and then grabbed a drink.

"I see," she huffed out.

"Do you? Because unless you can prove to _this bracelet_ that you are not the Princess Aedel of Alfheim, you will be returned to your rightful realm, with or without your consent." He stood up straight, seeming even taller then, when he languidly folded his hands behind his back. That wide, disturbing smile was back again…that may not have been improved by showing teeth. She decided it wouldn't have made it seem more genuine.

She groaned. Great. It looked like playing along to the smallest degree was unavoidable if she ever wanted see an end to this absurdity. Oh, Darcy would be getting an earful from her. This little joke of hers was far from professional, and worst of all, irritatingly inconvenient.

"Fine, how do I _prove_ I'm not this Princess of…Halfine?" She winced at her own suggestion.

"Alfheim."

"Whatever."

Did he actually roll his eyes at her? Was that supposed to be his character or had he broken character to insult her?

He pursed his lips before elaborating, momentarily giving that ominous smile reprieve before he allowed it to return. "It's simple, really. Convince the bracelet of your identity."

Jane eyed him in suspicion, until the trinket caught her attention and it came into focus before her. The familiar, analytical side of her pointed out that the bracelet might be her only way out of this predicament.

She grabbed it from him in eager determination and examined it quickly. Her eyes jumped between it and his face, "So…I assume I just need to put this thing on and that's all?"

The stranger's hand remained extended as he paused for a moment before answering. Jane second guessed her intentions when she caught an odd sparkle of glee in the depths of his emerald gaze as his arm lowered. Maybe encouraging him wasn't a good thing…

"That is all."

"And then you'll leave?" Jane added without missing a beat.

The mischievous smile became wider, if possible. His teeth made an appearance and as she had theorized, this newer, _improved_ smile did nothing to quell her concerns. He spoke in a low voice, on the verge of a whisper.

"If you can remove it, I will be fully convinced that the magic of the bracelet deems you not to be Her Highness after all. I will then swiftly take my leave, alone."

This was how this insufferable game would come to an end – she imagined the prospect of relief.

"Fine." Jane narrowed her gaze up at him.

With the misshapen plastic bottle in one hand and the bracelet in the other, she fumbled to replace the cap on her bottle of water before pushing it onto the counter nearby. With the water bottle out of the way, she could now fully focused on her crazy task. Unfortunately.

Feigned suspense or not, the full smile was gone from her companion's lips – once again only the hint of smirk remained as he watched her closely. She wagered that was an expression he liked to wear a lot, like his version of a mask of neutrality.

Role-playing or not, he was too close for comfort. Feeling claustrophobic, she made no movement to put the bracelet but instead, threw him an obvious glare. He must have taken the hint because he moved back a few paces to give her room. Not back far enough, but it mattered little now. She'd just put the thing on, take it off and then show him the door. And that would be the end of it.

She inspected the band, turning it rapidly between her fingertips. No matter which way she turned it, the thing looked like a simple bronze band – no signs of being tampering with, still no evidence of adhesive. It looked plain enough even if cooler than it should have been on the spots where her fingers lingered.

And the soft humming? She was convinced that what she could feel flowing up through her fingertips was actually her own nerves and not something produced by the object she was holding. And even though it was tempting to check, she refrained from holding the thing to her ear to make sure.

She wondered how many flea markets and thrift stores he had to have searched to find this prop and how long he must have practiced just to make something that size seemingly materialize out of nowhere like that. He must have trained as a magician and it obviously came in very handy for his role-playing. So much energy put into something so utterly useless! And it was unfathomable to understand how this pastime could offer anything of use or be a productive use of time. It was like choosing to live in a land of fantasy.

She gave him another once over with the thought that maybe he had a PHD and Darcy was proving a point? Would he be interested in discussing Einstein-Rosen Bridges and Quantum Mechanics?

Okay _now_ who was living in a land of fantasy?

Jane forced her focus away from the guy and back onto the metal band in her hold.

A moment later, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She could _feel_ his eyes on her in that intrusive way he had been gazing at her before. When she met his eyes, it made her feel naked and vulnerable, like there was something dangerous lurking beneath his calm demeanour. Either he was dangerously volatile or a fabulous actor.

Or both?

Jane shuddered, wondering whether he would become violent once she removed the band without hesitation, without bothering to play along even a bit. Why couldn't he just play along with her not being that princess? Wasn't she making it obvious that this was not going to work?

She huffed out air in annoyance, unsure who it directed at; she settled on directing the antagonism towards him because now he was the only visible thing standing in the way of her plans.

She gave him another glare; a quick one this time that should have efficiently summed up her irritation with the circumstances and then slid her hand through the band. As she held the bronze thing at her wrist, she ignored that it made her skin tingle where it touched, or the unchanging coolness of the metal beneath her fingers.

Then there was that soft, weird hum that never dissipated, she hadn't imagined it, but this too, she ignored, even though she was unable to decide whether it was something she could hear or feel. Still she chose to attribute it to her own tense, nervous energy that was welling up inside of her. Darcy was always telling her _to chill_.

And where was Darcy now? Well, wherever she was, Jane knew she wouldn't be back any time soon.

Jane forced her mind back to the situation at hand. Literally.

There was no flannel shirt to get in the way – Jane regretted that it had been too hot for her to have worn the extra layer that could have helped create a delay. Unless…

She pulled her hand back out and now it was now her turn to smirk at him. "What if I refuse to try it on?"

He shrugged coolly. "In such a case one can only assume, _Your Highness,_ that in that case you have something to hide. And perhaps that you must enjoy my company because you wish for me to stay." Cue another arrogant smile that promised something ill-omened would follow.

With her attention back on the bracelet again, she mumbled to herself, "God I hope you're not crazy."

With a soft heave, she slipped the band back on and pulled the thing up her arm until it sat snugly.

Of course, nothing happened. It felt weightless, and if not for Jane's skin tingling in that spot, it was as though there wasn't anything there at all. She could have attributed the tingling sensation to the slight heat stroke she must have gotten while working outside before. Or maybe she was actually passed out in her van and dreaming this whole thing and Darcy would come back and wake her up.

The forming headache was now a comfort that proved this wasn't some lucid dream she having while actually lying in an unconscious heap somewhere in her lab.

What happened next, was both mind-boggling and a cause for slight concern: When she reached up to pull on the band with the intention of removing it, the thing would not budge.


	4. Whose Bracelet?

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the last one...hope you enjoy. Would love to hear your thoughts.

* * *

 **Whose Bracelet?**

For someone with a PhD in Astrophysics, Jane felt hilariously idiotic, struggling to remove some simple bracelet by repeatedly tugging at it without any evidence that it was working. She tried using her nails to create a small gap for leverage for her fingers, but the emerging red marks above and below the thing were obvious indication that the bracelet was anything but simple.

Somehow a vacuum had formed between it and her skin and the attachment felt thorough, even though there was no pain when she pried and pulled with all of her strength at the metal band. She did observe, however, that a cool tingling followed every attempt where the thing covered her arm. That, she was convinced, was a symptom of it somehow cutting off some circulation.

But her fingers on that hand weren't tingly at all, like when she would wake up in the middle of the night (on her desk or her loveseat) because she had fallen asleep in the most awkward of positions on her arm, and it too had fallen asleep. No, this was distinctly different – instead of painful pins and needles, the tingling almost tickled.

"You certainly are having immense difficulty removing the bracelet from your person for someone who is _not_ the princess of Alfheim." His tone was dry, yet blasé.

Jane abruptly ceased with her efforts to throw the stranger a death glare. To her irritation, his arms were crossed casually at his chest and his smirk blossomed into a close-lipped smile, which was a mere extension of the smirk itself. Again, Jane concluded from this that he must have known this would happen and that this was exactly the scenario he had counted on. Could her day truly get any weirder?

When his eyes went to the bracelet again, she was motivated to attempt the same technique of force with her nails, but naturally her efforts proved to be just as futile as before. A part of her was still convinced there was some type of adhesive involved and she groaned in frustration, dropping both arms so they hung at her sides in momentary resignation. How could she have missed seeing the adhesive? Now the headache was getting worse. Fantastic.

"I would not expect you to need anything from here. Is there something in particular you would prefer to bring home with you?" He asked, apparently continuing with the ridiculous charade of _being_ his character. He went as far as to assess their surroundings with a distinct look of distaste on his face, no doubt ensuring she would see it.

Jane scoffed, and huffed out air more out of amusement now. How far was he expecting this thing to go? There was absolutely no way in _Hell_ she would be leaving her lab with him. This farce had to stop now. Jane remained mute, daring him to do something. She might have been slight but she knew a few moves to protect herself and she sure as _Hell_ would be using them if he planned to put his hands on her for any reason.

She was sure of herself until things took a turn towards the bizarre and unreal. It should have been a visit from a strange role-playing freak in her lab, someone she could just turn away and be done with it. She could handle outlandish theories, but actually experiencing some phenomenon (that could no doubt be expressed formulaically) was a whole other thing.

After calmly unfolding his arms in a smooth movement, he lifted his right hand to eye-level and ran his palm vertically along an invisible surface to his right. The movement mimicked a magician's act.

This was when she thought she was seeing the effects of heat stroke on her brain. The sight reminded her of how things quivered at a distance from heat visibly rising to meet cooler air. Between the two of them but to just to her left, parts of her kitchen swirled, shook and shimmied, just like heat haze on a road upon a horizon at a distance. She blinked a couple of times to clear her vision as if perhaps it was just her eyes, but the sight remained.

From the edge of her vision, she saw him extend a hand. "It's time to go, Princess."

Jane pulled her gaze away from the visibly wobbling air between them to fully take in the sight that he was, with his hand extended to her, back to what she could only name the Phenomenon. Another few blinks, but it was still there. What was happening?

"How are you doing that?" Transfixed by the sight, she reached towards the thing's outer edge. Before her fingertips could brush it, the guy in green and black grabbed her wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you"—as if waking from a dream, she looked at him— "unless you want your arm torn clean off."

She narrowed her eyes at him, curious about his logic. "What do you mean...why…why would that happen?"

Oh no, no questions about how he had created the incredible illusion right before her eyes. Jane was sure she'd find that out soon enough.

"You should be well-versed in the rules of interspatial travel, Princess." With the admonishing tone he used, she had expected him to tsk her.

Interspatial…Ah, so it was supposed to be a worm-hole, hm? Jane could see this as being Darcy's idea for as part of this role-play plot. Her intern made her a princess that knew stuff. At least she wasn't supposed to be clueless.

"I see. And I'm assuming it leads to this Alfheim place?"

A small smile and an amused twinkle in his gaze were his only reply to that.

"Great. Can I have my hand back now?" She didn't wait for a response – the question was, of course, rhetorical. She gave her hand a tug but his fingers around it only tightened.

He tilted his head at her, a hint at no. "I told you that I would return you with or without your consent."

Jane pulled at her hand again now with more and sudden force, but he held fast without mercy. In the following instant she twisted her arm at an angle that should have forced him to let go, but he remained unfazed, and instead the movement backfired. He easily caught her wrist again and pulled her into a lightning-quick twirl that was akin to a fancy dance move, so she ended up caged in his arms with her back pressed against his chest.

The scent of something like leather, or ozone, or mint, or snow hit her nose, she couldn't quite distinguish exactly which one it was, if not a combination of these. Her attempt to decide momentarily dazed her before she realized what happened.

In contrast to any guy she had ever been up against in self-defence class, he had to have been by far stronger, even with just a single arm across her chest and a spidery hand that grasped her elbow.

Self-defence lessons re-emerged from her memory and her honed instincts kicked in. She tried the SING tactic – an elbow to his ribs, a stomp into his foot – but he remained unaffected. Before she could finish the repertoire, he had captured both of her wrists with a single hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist like a band.

With limited mobility, the only thing left for Jane was to thrash her legs up and about in an effort to knock him off balance. It was her last chance; terror threatened to strangle her but she screamed – even if to her empty lab. There was no one there to help.

How could things derail this quickly? This was supposed to be pretend, accepted or not. Her efforts proved ineffectual – it felt like she was bound to a tree. A somewhat soft and warm tree that now released an amused chuckle.

"As before, I warn you to keep all limbs tucked in unless you wish to lose them." He was moving, dragging her back without effort to the heat-haze like phenomenon they had moved away from amidst their struggle.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"I assure you, I am serious. Would you like to test my word?"

 _What is that supposed to mean? And how the Hell are you so god-damn strong? Not even a puff of physical effort!_

The adrenalin in her system must have piqued because a newer burst of energy helped her to flail even more wildly than before. She managed to swing a freed hand back, narrowly missing to fist some of his hair before he caught her hand again.

He huffed in irritation. "If I promise to release you in just one moment, will you stop struggling?" The meaning beyond those soft words at her ear caught her interest and she slackened in his hold, but it was more out of consideration of his bargain than actual consent. Had he said what she thought? What a strange thing to say.

 _What a psychopathic thing to say._

It was difficult to assess his body language from her angle and behind the layer of hair now in front of her face but she did notice that while she was sweating profusely in the already intense heat from this short burst of exertion, while he, in his heavy leather costume, remained cool as a cucumber.

"Fine," Jane bit out between gritted teeth, her throat dry again. She missed that water already.

He took another step backwards, and she followed, without a choice, without a fight.

About three seconds later, she felt a swift gust of funneling chilly air so strong that she was unable to breathe. It was like all the air had been sucked away. She gasped and clawed at his hold as the wind whipped her hair from behind from angles his frame didn't cover, obscuring almost everything.

 _What the Hell?_ Was there a sandstorm?

She blinked, something stung her eyes – perhaps sand. When she opened them she panicked because her eyes were met with blackness. The only sure thing was the sensation of his arms and that he was _there_ , behind her. Jane looked about herself – she couldn't even see her own nose much less her feet, which no longer seemed to be on anything firm as though she were floating. Where the ground should have been, there was…nothing! A part of her hoped he wouldn't choose this particular moment to release her. Her stomach dropped, reminding her of a roller coaster ride, along with the wind whipping audibly by – as though she were inside of a wind tunnel.

 _Fuck!_ What if he had drugged her through that adhesive that she'd missed? Was this a bad trip? She wouldn't have known – she'd been that nerd who ate by herself all through school with her nose in a book.

Her vision went from pitch darkness to a stream of every colour imaginable, dominated by hues of purple. The high-pitch noise turned into a warm hum and by the time she focused well enough on it to recognize it as a hum of voices, there came a sudden pop. And then there was almost deafening silence in contrast, minus the slight ringing in her ears that quickly dissipated.

Jane's analytical side weighed the pros and cons of her situation. Pros: There was a ground, there was air, and he had released her, her knees and palms hitting something plush. Cons: She opened her eyes to foreign surroundings…and immediately realized she was about to see her more recent meal again.


End file.
